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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29588730">Neville Longbottom: The Mirror of Erised</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayekrusher0901/pseuds/Ayekrusher0901'>Ayekrusher0901</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Neville Longbottom: The Boy Who Lived [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abused Harry Potter, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Boy-Who-Lived Neville Longbottom, F/F, Gen, Hermione Granger Bashing, JKR is dead to us, James Potter &amp; Lily Evans Potter Live, Lily Evans Potter &amp; Severus Snape Friendship, Severus Snape Has a Heart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:22:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,447</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29588730</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayekrusher0901/pseuds/Ayekrusher0901</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville Longbottom has only known from his grandmother that his parents were great people, who fought to let him live from.</p><p>Now, his letter has arrived. An exciting adventure awaits. His choices will define the first steps into Hogwarts, and they just might help him survive.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Neville Longbottom &amp; Harry Potter, Penny Haywood/Player Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Neville Longbottom: The Boy Who Lived [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1850107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Boy Who Lived</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fanon rewrite featuring Neville Longbottom as The-Boy-Who-Lived will be written in a more mature tone. Tags will be edited and/or changed as the story develops. There will be dialogue taken directly from the books and/or films, as I will be sticking towards the canon story except for obvious deviations; I do not own The Wizarding World, it is the property of Warner Bros Pictures.</p><p>Update: for those wondering, this is a revised reupload of the original version I wrote. The first version seemed to have been taken well, hence the changes.</p><p>Reviews are greatly appreciated, and hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's the height of the First Wizarding War. The conflict that tore Britain apart - at least the magical side. The reign of the most powerful dark wizard, Lord Voldemort, who had huge numbers at his command - not just his Death Eaters, a covert and violent group of dark wizards and witches who served him and brought terror to both the Muggle and Wizarding Worlds, but all manner of Dark creatures, such as giants who could wreak havoc across cities, werewolves who brought terror through the fear of infection, and dementors who could drain your soul - was almost unopposed.</p><p>Then, on a cold, wet night in 1980, during a job interview that Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of the Britain's Wizarding School Hogwarts as well as the Leader of the Order of the Phoenix, the only resistance against Voldemort was conducting in the Hog's Head Pub, Sybil Trelawney, the divination hopeful, went into a trance and made the prophecy that changed everything.</p><p>'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...'</p><p>Part of this prophecy was reported to Lord Voldemort, and it was soon decided that it could mean either one of two individuals - one was the expecting child who would be born to the Longbottom family, the other from the Potters. Both families had gone into hiding, despite initial protests. Over that year, the rumors of a traitor amongst the Order grew and grew as instances seeming to show that they had an informant among them occurred more and more frequently. More deaths, more disappearances, more destruction, more failed missions, and more battles. </p><p>But the victims were different.</p><hr/><p>“Take Neville and run!” Alice shouted, pulling out her wand and fired out a smokescreen in an attempt to buy time, in preparation of what was likely her last fight. “I'll hold him off as much as I can. Go!”</p><p>Frank Longbottom took one last look at the woman he loved, gave her one last kiss before rushing up to the crib where their son lay. Alice Longbottom steeled herself as she prepared to stand her ground. How she wished she could watch her son grow up... Still, if there was any consolation, she died fighting against the most powerful Dark Wizard of all time to protect him. Even if she perished, her name would not be forgotten. </p><p>Alice felt the protective charms crumble as the front door swung leisurely open, admitting the Dark Lord himself as the smoke was funneled out. His skin was bone-white, and his red eyes shone in the light as he stepped inside, before politely shutting the door with a wave of his wand. </p><p>"Good evening, Lady Longbottom." A harsh voice hissed from his lips. "I take it that I am expected?"</p><p>Alice responded with a <em>Bombarda</em> that exploded from the end of her wand, crackling across the room like a bolt of lightning. Voldemort merely waved his own dismissively, causing the spell to ricochet and detonate into the far wall. She made to chain several more spells together, but he wasn't fast enough. With a few flicks, Alice flew backwards, smashing hard into the wall and slumping to the floor before Voldemort raised his wand again.</p><p>Back upstairs, Frank stopped when the sounds of spells flying were suddenly replaced by a loud thud, mentally cursing the fact that they had made such a broad space be part of the anti-disapparition jinx. Quickly, he turned and placed his son back in his crib and cast <em>Protego</em> - there was no running now. He would have to stand and fight - like a Gryffindor, he supposed James Potter would say. He always thought himself more Hufflepuff than his chosen House.</p><p>"Good evening, Lord Longbottom." His blood chilled as slow, leisurely footsteps followed the creaking on the stairs. "Step aside. I would prefer not to needlessly spill such pure blood." </p><p>"Never!!" He cried out, firing a hex as the door opened. "You're not taking my son as well. Not while I'm still alive."</p><p>"Lord Longbottom, this is your final warning." Voldemort paused momentarily to touch his now bleeding eye, wondering how he had managed to bleed. "All I need, is the boy. Did you really think you could -"</p><p>Frank thrust his wand forward, sending a wall of flames rocketing towards the very taken aback looking visage of Voldemort, who shouted in surprise before the flames were seemingly absorbed into his own wand, before it glowed an emerald green. The last thing Frank thought before his body became enshrouded in green light was to put himself over the crib and protect his son.</p><p>As his body hit the floor, the boy in the crib behind him reacted for the first time. He began to cry, clearly uncertain as to the origin of the bright light, and put his small hands on the top of the crib to pull himself to his feet, wobbling a bit as he did so, doubtlessly wondering why his father had fallen. </p><p>Carefully, Voldemort stepped forward, casting aside the body to picking up the child up and inspected him like an butcher. He was like every other child he had ended, nothing out of the ordinary. But he himself used to be such a child, until he carved his name into history.</p><p>"Such a waste of blood." He hissed in an effort to silence him. "But alas, there simply cannot be two Dark Lords, and Lord Voldemort does not share, Neville Longbottom." </p><p>There was a final flash of green light, and the sound of crying echoed throughout the night.</p><hr/><p>Weeks later, in a little Muggle town a fair distance from the Longbottom's old home, Albus Dumbledore stood next to a rather severe-looking woman who wore square glasses, an emerald green cloak, and had her long black hair pulled up into a tight bun. Standing in front of them was a tall, thin and bony old woman who held a sense of formidability, holding a bundle of blankets in her arms. "...I was expecting my grandson in the morning."</p><p>"Apologies for waking you, Augusta. But he <em>is</em> your grandson - it would be rude to keep him away from you so long."</p><p>"At least you didn't just leave him on the doorstep, or else I'd have sent you the worst howler in your life." She said as she looked over her sleeping grandson; under a thin tuft of hair that was a mix of brown and blond, was the lightning shaped scar. "Is that where...?"</p><p>"Yes." Dumbledore said sadly. "He'll have that scar forever."</p><p>"Couldn't you do something about it?"</p><p>"I'm afraid I couldn't. It's a cursed scar - one beyond my expertise. And the prophecy has complicated things. I'm still looking into that matter in that regard." Dumbledore shook his head apologetically "But fear not, scars can be useful.”</p><p>"I suppose so. It'll be the reminder of how his parents saved him." She concluded. "Well, I suppose I shouldn't take up any more of your time, Professors? I hear that the celebrations are still going on." </p><p>Minvera nodded curtly in reply, transforming into a cat and scurried around the corner. Dumbledore touched Neville for the last time, murmured a prayer of hope before disapparating with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.</p><p>As Augusta collected her wits and shut the door with her grandson in her arms, all over the country people who met in secret were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Neville Longbottom - the boy who lived!"</p><hr/><p>"He looks so much like you, Prongs. It's almost creepy."</p><p>James chuckled as his best friend Sirius Black transformed back into a human, panting slightly as he looked down at the playing infant on the couch, happily chewing on his toys. His son, Harry James Potter, was indeed almost the splitting image of him, though with one major difference. He had his mother's green eyes.</p><p>"You may think this is funny now, Harry, but trust me when I say you'll won't find this amusing later." Lily lifted up the giggling boy out of Sirius' hair and tried to smooth it out.</p><p>"It won't work, Lils. It's in the Potter blood. That's why your pops invented Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, am I right?" Sirius joked, earning a jab in the ribs from James. Lily could only sigh in exasperation and was ready to respond when something hit the door.</p><p>James was instantly on his feet, silently handed Harry over to Lily and drew out his wand, motioning for Lily to go upstairs with a confused Harry while Sirius readied himself for a fight.</p><p>After the Longbottoms' demise, they had moved to Godric's Hollow and only a hand selected few were allowed to visit - the Death Eaters were still at large, after all. Sirius waited apprehensively, his wand in one hand while another grabbed onto the coatstaff in case he needed a distraction. He would curse anyone that as much as cast a shadow over his godson.</p><p>James slowly made his way to the door before he cast Homenum Revelio. Four people were outside his door, but as to whom they are he could not tell. Not that it mattered, when the door was blasted off its hinges and into James, before Sirius was disarmed and went flying across the hallway.</p><p>"Well, well, well..." A woman with thick, shining dark hair, long eyelashes and heavily hooded eyes looked down at him, while a pale young man with bark-coloured hair and freckles came in after her, flanked by two tall, thickset man with very dark hair. "If it isn't dear Sirius."</p><p>"Bella." Sirius snarled, looking at his assailant. "Fancy seeing you in my godson's house."</p><p>"Likewise, Bartemius." James gritted his teeth as Bartemius 'Barty' Crouch Jr, son of Minister of Magic candidate, grinned at them, his tongue flickering like a hissing snake. "Don't think your father would approve."</p><p>Bellatrix Lestrange simply gave a shrill laugh as her husband and brother-in-law conjured ropes to bind them. "Where. Is. The Dark Lord?"</p><p>"Why the hell would we know?" Sirius spat in his cousin's face. "And even if we did, we certainly wouldn't tell you, <em>Death Eater</em>."</p><p>"Maybe this will loosen your tongue." Rodolphus snarled before the two collapsed to the floor, convulsing with pain. The questions were repeated, as were the responses, until Barty broke the cycle with a shout.</p><p>"No!" He pointed as a silvery ghostly doe rushed pass them, before Bellatrix took a Stunning Spell to the chest as Lily charged in, anger flaring in her eyes as she delivered a simultaneous disarming spell that sent the other Lestranges into the wall.</p><p>"Crucio!" Barty roared, sending Lily falling into a seizing mess as cracks could be heard echoing outside. "We have to go! They've called for backup!"</p><hr/><p>Dumbledore sat uneasily as he sat in the courtroom, looking warily around the murmuring crowd who had come to watch the trial. More specifically, the trial of the convicted death eaters who had been caught. His mind shuddered when he recalled arriving at Godric' Hollow. The Potter's last house had been set aflame with f<span class="mw-headline">iendfyre</span>, and it had been another week before they were rescued.</p><p>"Alastor. How are they?" He asked the war-torn Auror, who had personally led the hunt and caught the Lestranges.</p><p>"The Healer's are optimistic about Black n' Potter." Alastor grunted as he sat down. "But they say that Potter's wife's gonna be barren for the rest of her life. Extended exposure to the Cruciatus Curse combined with her miscarriage was the cause. They've only got their son left."</p><p>Dumbledore's eyes dimmed with sympathy. "My greatest condolences to them, I dread the day we'd have to tell them."</p><p>"I say we throw the Lestranges to the Dementors." He paused upon looking at Dumbledore's look of discomfort. "Ah, I knew I forgot something...you don't like the Dementors, do you, Albus?"</p><p>"No, I'm afraid I don't." Dumbledore replied calmly. "I have voiced my displeasure over the Ministry's alliance with such creatures."</p><p>"But for filth like this..." Moody said softly, looking over Dumbledore's shoulder to see a ragged man rise from inside the interrogation cage in the center of the room. "Don't you think he deserves it? Took me a year to hunt him down, and now he's cut a deal with save his own skin."</p><p>"Igor Karkaroff, you have been brought out of Azkaban at your own request to present evidence to this council." Bartemius Crouch Sr. began, staring at the lean man. "Should your testimony prove consequential, the council may be prepared to order your release. Until then, you remain, in the eyes of the ministry, a convicted Death Eater. Do you accept these terms?"</p><p>"I do, sir."</p><p>"And what do you wish to present?"</p><p>The former Death Eater looked up with desperate eyes. "I have names, sir." He spoke while Crouch looked on uninterestedly. "There was a Rosier. Evan Rosier."</p><p>Crouch looked to his assistant who handed over a piece of paper. "Rosier is dead, caught shortly after you were. He preferred to fight rather than come quietly and was killed in the struggle."</p><p>"Took my eye and half of my nose too." Alastor chuckled behind Dumbledore, scratching the remainder of his nose while his magical eye whizzed hazardously.</p><p>"If the defendant has no more names-"</p><p>"Wait! I have more!" Karkaroff shouted. "There was Travers - he helped murder the McKinnons! Mulciber - he specialised in the Imperius Curse, forced countless people to do horrific things! And Rookwood! He was a spy!"</p><p>The last name gave some pause. "Augustus Rookwood? From the department of Mysteries?"</p><p>"Yes, yes, the same!" Karkaroff said eagerly, knowing he had struck gold. "He passed information to You-Know-Who from inside the Ministry itself!"</p><p>Bartemius Crouch Sr looked satisfied for moment. "But Travers and Mulciber we have. Very well, Council will deliberate. In the the meantime you will be returned to Azkaban."</p><p>"NO!" The desperation could be heard. "Wait, wait! Please! I have more! But one Snape! Severus Snape!"</p><p>"The Council is very much aware that I have given evidence on this matter." Dumbledore had rose to his feet. "Severus Snape was indeed a Death Eater, and prior to Lord Voldemort's downfall turned spy for us at great personal risk." He raised his voice over Karkaroff's frantic shouting. "He is now no more a Death Eater than I am."</p><p>"Silence!" Crouch repeatedly slammed his gavel to regain order. "Unless the witness possess any genuine name of consequence, this session is now concluded!"</p><p>"Oh no, no, no, no..." Karkaroff was breathing heavily, as if to present his trump card. "I know one more. I know for a fact that this person took part in the kidnapping and, by means of the Cruciatus Curse, torture, of the Auror Sirius Black, and his friends the Potters!"</p><p>"The name! Give me the wretched name!"</p><p>"BARTY CROUCH...!" He paused to savor the looks of shock over the watching crowd, and Dumbledore looked over to both the judge and the son, the latter who had gotten out of his seat. "...Junior."</p><p>There was a moment of stunned silence, which the younger Barty tried to take advantage and made a run for it. Unfortunately for him, Moody was also in the room, and the auror made short work at foiling his escape.</p><p>"Get your filthy hands off me!" Barty roared as he was being restrained, flicking his tongue like a snake as he was forced in front of the elder, shell-shocked Crouch. "Hello, father."</p><p>"...You are no son of mine."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Childhoods</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been six years since the fall of Lord Voldemort. Muggleborn witches and wizards stopped getting treated as if they were nothing more than filth under everyone else’s shoes. The weather seemed to be more welcoming and warm, as if Mother Nature knew that the evil was truly gone and that the world could be in peace for once for all. Any remaining Death Eaters were scattered and fled for their lives, living in the shadows, never revealing the skin on their left forearm.</p><p>Among those Death Eaters was one Severus Snape, who kept his face stoic as he arrived at Number Four, Privet Drive, a town that could not be more mundane as he could imagine. He suspected that this...mundanity...was the reason the family he had to hunt down decided to settle here. </p><p>In his hand was a paper of the Daily Prophet, with the words 'Longbottom Boy - the Squib-Who-Lived?' printed out in large fonts. On the front page was a picture of a furious Augusta chasing - presumably - the photographer with a broom in one hand and her wand in the other.</p><p>The article had been written by a Rita Skeeter, a... journalist gaining notoriety for her articles. According to her 'sources', the Longbottom boy was practically a squib, his natural magic nothing special as expected of the supposed savior of the Wizarding World. Augusta's statement regarding this was practically shown on the front page, while Dumbledore's made him scoff.</p><p>
  <em>“Think of what it would do to a child to grow up in the spotlight, a hero for something he did as a baby, something he doesn’t remember, something that cost him his parents. I wanted to spare him that pain.” </em>
</p><p>Right. Like Dumbledore knew anything of the 'pain' of growing up famous.</p><p>As he made his way onto the front door, Severus couldn’t help but feel like something was off. Earlier, he had just finished speaking with Arabella Figg, a squib who Albus had moved to keep an eye on the young Potter boy after Minerva, Remus and himself voiced concerns over the Dursleys. </p><p>Arabella noticed that Petunia was a nosy bit of work with insecurities hanging from her every harsh angle. She noticed that Vernon glared at owls and yelled at the odd muggle magician. She noticed when Dudley learned the word MINE - the whole neighborhood noticed that one, in fact. When Harry went over for afternoons of 'reluctant' babysitting, she did notice odd things. The flowers somehow made its way to the roof, drained of life. Odd frost creeping on the walls even in the midst of the hottest summer. The teapot exploding when he offered to make her a cup of tea and added an extra teaspoon of sugar by mistake.</p><p>One would have just assumed that it was just cases of accidental magic, but Severus knew better than to just assume.</p><p class="p2">After a long time of insistent knocking, a round and red faced man finally came to answer. He has a bushy moustache with a deep scowl beneath it, and when his small, dark eyes looked at him with distain Severus found a lot of uncharitable thoughts on both ends regarding Vernon Dursley. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested.”</p><p>“I’m not selling anything, sir,” Severus retorted. "My name is Severus Snape. I'm a staff member of Hogwarts School of Wizard and-" Before he could even finish, Vernon withdrew his breath sharply and reached for the door handle. "Witchcraft - I am here - to check on - your nephew!"</p><p class="p2">“There’ll be none of that in this house!” He shouted, trying to push the door shut. Severus easily caught a complacent image of bashing at the boy with an iron frying pan as he fought to get in. An episode of his own drunken muggle father and an empty bottle of gin reared its head. “Magic is not real! I don't know how the boy found you, but this is the last time-" </p><p class="p2">“Vernon Dursley.” With a flick of his wand, Severus blasted the door open and stepped in. “I can assure you that magic is <em>quite</em> real," He pointed his wand at the man and a long brown snake was blasted onto him. "and <em>will</em> be welcome in this house.”</p><p class="p2">“Wh- get rid of it!” Vernon shouted. “Petunia!”</p><p>From down the hall, there was the sound of panicked footsteps before a terrified Petunia Dursley came into view. The years had been no kinder to Petunia than to himself, Severus observed. She had always been a scraggy, gawky girl, much taller than Lily. The bones at jaw and cheekbone and wrist stood out like razors, and perhaps her expression of panicked fear made them even more disdainful. "You."</p><p>"Ah, good to see you too, Petunia." Severus sneered, finally vanishing the animal that had began to constrict Vernon's neck and withdrew his wand. "Believe me when I say I'm detesting this reunion. However, given my association with your family...and the fact that I was the only one with enough time to spare, the duty of coming to see Harry...fell onto my shoulders."</p><p class="p2">"He's not going to some freak school." Vernon immediately bursts out. “He hasn't got a penny of his own, and we’re certainly not paying for any of that!”</p><p class="p2">“I doubt you would even if I Imperiused you.” Severus rolled his eyes. “His parents - your in-laws - have already funded his education. However, like I was trying to tell you...I am here to check on the boy."</p><p class="p2">"...Fine." Petunia left the room momentarily, returning with a scrawny boy in hand-me-down clothes and pushed him toward. Severus felt his heart skip a beat when the boy's eyes looked up - green eyes he'd once thought to never see life in again. "You're happy?"</p><p>"On the contrary." Severus bowed down to take a closer look, and noticed that Harry flinched when he did so. "I have questions. For instance, why is Lily's son so skinny? And his clothes...they're clearly not his size." He returned his glance back at the Dursleys. "In fact, I remember Lily mentioning that you have a child of your own... perhaps, the leftovers then?"</p><p>Petunia protested furiously, "We never asked to be burdened with him! He's a millstone around our necks! We can't be expected to scrimp and save and deprive our own child-"</p><p>"Listen to yourself, you stupid woman!" Harry gasped as the man with greasy black hair gripped his aunt by the neck and threw her onto the couch before drawing a wooden stick. "You're not talking to some dithering Pureblood! It's me - Severus Snape, the boy who grew up across your play park! You thought I won't know how you would milk the system for every bloody penny you could get? I know you must get benefits for this boy, and I know you must collect a guardian's allowance for him as well! What the bloody hell have you done with his money? Wasted it all on..." He paused for a moment, squinting in confusion before he spat out. "Duddlykins."</p><p><em>'I have money?'</em> Severus caught onto Harry's thoughts, and decided to add that to the list of things he'll have to yell at Dumbledore.</p><p class="p2">“He’ll not be going off to some ‘school’ to learn freakish things,” Vernon insisted. “Petunia told me all about the strangeness her sister did when they were children; no surprise she went off to learn about <em>all that</em> and right away got herself dead with that good-for-nothing husband of hers too.”</p><p class="p2">Snape's eyes widened for the briefest of moments, before they narrowed to a furious glare. "Never would I have thought you'd consider your own sister dead, Petunia. They weren't killed, they were tortured. They're in St. Mungos as we speak, and Lily is expected to be released within a month or two."</p><p class="p2">“You mean..." Harry's timid voice spoke voluntarily for the first time. Everyone glanced down at him, he has that hard look on his face again, this time directed at his uncle. "They’re...still alive?”</p><p class="p2">Severus kneeled down and whispered into Harry's ear. "Yes, Harry. But they were very injured, that's why you were sent here. They would have never, <em>ever</em> left you otherwise. When they are released, you won't have to live with them anymore." </p><p class="p2">“They might as well be.” Petunia interrupted, an look of anger brewing. “Always had her head full of dreams, and look what it got her. As good as murdered. All because of <em>magic</em>, which certainly has nothing to do with me.”</p><p class="p2">“That’s right,” Vernon had regained his composure. “We’ll be having nothing to do with <em>your </em>kind.”</p><p class="p2">“Your nephew is one of <em>my </em>kind, in case you couldn't tell.” He got up and shoved her to the ground, leaving her sprawling on the rug. "You're pathetic. If you'd been hit by a lorry, Lily would have treated Dudley as her own-"</p><p>"Oh, you and your <em>Saint Lily</em>!" Petunia scrambled to her feet, and swung a slap in his direction. "You think she'd have let a mere <em>muggle</em> under her roof? I don't care - all you freaks deserve each other! I'm alive, and she's dead, for being <em>oh so very </em><em>magical</em>. I'm alive and she's dead!" Petunia let out a wild laugh that reminded Severus of Bellatrix. "<em>You're</em> the one who's pathetic - still pining after a girl who only put up with you out of pity! She dropped you quick smart when she got her claws into Potter-"</p><p>"If I ever hear you use the word "freak" again, I will hex you, do you understand?" Snape drew his wand and vanished the Dursley's mouths. "If you or your husband or your son insult or injure Potter again in any form, I will curse you." His glare blazed. "And if you ever disgrace Lily's name with your lips again, <em>I will fucking kill you, consequences be damned</em>. Do I, make myself...clear?"</p><p>"Yes..." Petunia broke the silence, before a shaking finger was raised at the door. "Now get. Out."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Letters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eleven year old Neville Longbottom was a perfectly normal wizard, a small chubby boy with dark brown hair cut in a somewhat unfortunate bowl cut, only just covering the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. He lived on a perfectly normal wizarding road in a perfectly normal wizard village along with his Grandmother Augusta, a strict, harsh woman who loved to reminisce on the past and speak about greatness.</p><p>Occasionally, they were visited by Augusta's brother Algie, a jovial, good natured man who was the only one that could stand up to her and not be told off for it. While Augusta would often scold him a lot, Algie was very patient with him, he let Neville go on about his plants and he would really listen to him. He encouraged Neville a lot and made him feel good about himself. On the few occasions he went over to his house, Neville was allowed to help him in his garden. Neville didn't mind, he loved to watch them grow and become something beautiful. Whenever he was feeling particularly lonely, he would go out into the garden and talk to the plants.</p><p>That morning, Neville woke up earlier than usual. Something about today made him feel happy, though he wouldn't know why until an owl arrived in their kitchen with a letter in its beak.</p><p>“Gran! There's post for you here.” He called up the stairs, before ternately offering the bird a chunk of ham from the leg that Grandmother had traded one of their neighbors for an interestingly stuffed hare. It accepted the peace offering and handed over the envelope. Neville was about to continue his buttered toast when he saw his own name and address written neatly on the letter in swooping emerald green calligraphy, and cautiously opened it.</p><p>HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY</p><p>Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore</p><p>(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards) </p><p>Dear Mr Longbottom, We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find an enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment.  Term begins on 1 September.  We await your owl by no later than 31 July.</p><p>Yours sincerely </p><p>Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall </p><p>Neville’s hands were shaking as he read the letter, he had heard all about Hogwarts, it had been expected of him since he had been born, especially after the accident.  But after the first few years of magical incompetence, he had felt like a failure for not living up to his parents. There had still been a part of him that was afraid he wouldn’t get it; afraid that he wasn’t quite magical enough to go to Hogwarts - he overheard one of Gran's friends gossip that none of the great magical schools would have wanted to take him, even if she paid them. Heck, it wasn't until he was eight did they confirm he was magical - and even that day wasn't a particularly great day either.  </p><p>"Well, Neville?" Augusta asked sharply. "What'd you got in your hand?"</p><p>"It's..." Neville tried to as he handed over the letter. "It's my letter, Gran."</p><p>She read it, her lips pulling tight into a thin line, narrowing her eyes, the fox on her hat’s tail, swinging lower with each sentence she read. Her eyes skimmed back up to the top again, double checking the name of the addressee. “You don't have to go.” She finally broke the silence, putting down the letter carefully on the table.</p><p>“I...don't?”</p><p>“No Neville, perhaps I can talk to Minerva, ask her to put any formal education back a year,” she met his eyes, “maybe two.”</p><p>“Gran, I-”</p><p>“Neville, you are my grandson, you are just as much a wizard as anyone else in this family, but - you are delicate Neville.”</p><p>“I'm not -” Neville burst indignantly, before a sharp glance from her silenced him.</p><p>"I know, but after - no.” She stopped and straightened herself even more. “You don't ever have to go Neville, not if you don't want to-</p><p>“What's going on here?” Great uncle Algie said, peeking his head over Grandmother's shoulder. “My, is the world ending Augusta?” He asked with a hearty chuckle, rustling his large hand through Neville’s already messy hair. "Why the long face?"</p><p>“Neville’s letter arrived, Algie if you must know.” Augusta replied tersely, while Algie took a bite of Neville's abandoned toast. “We were just discussing what we should do next.” she said, pulling Neville closer, “I'm sure Minerva will be most understanding when we decide to keep Neville here-”</p><p>“You what?” Algae cried with greatly exaggerated surprise, spitting crumbs everywhere as he nearly choked. As soon as he could breath, he rushed out of the room in search of a quill. “You can't be doing that now Augusta, surely Neville would be most delighted, wouldn't you?” He said busting past to grab a quill and a roll of parchment from behind the post rack, “I shall write to the school right away, Neville would be most delighted to go. Wouldn't you Neville.”</p><p>“He is my grandson and my responsibility, Algie...”</p><p>“Augusta, he's not a baby anymore...”</p><p>“Gran - GRAN!” They looked stunned when the eleven year old boy suddenly shouted, and their faces softened. “I- I t-think-” He began with a stammer, “I want to go.”</p><p>Algie's face lit up with a satisfied grin as he handed the quill over to his sister, and Neville watched as his Grandmother began to write out an acceptance letter, the huge angry looking Owl watching their every move. </p><p>“We’ll have to go out and buy you new equipment of course, but-” She was cut off as Neville hugged her, and hesitantly she wrapped her bony arms around her precious grandson, the last remaining part of her son and daughter in law. "Before we do, there is something very important that I must tell you.”</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“The truth, Neville. Why we live here in the muggle world, why we don’t let you go anywhere on your own." She looked at Algie who nodded. “I know that you know some details, but now that your letter is here, you deserve to know the full story. It all began eleven years ago, before you were even born...”</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Diagon Alley</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took some time before life in the Longottom household returned to a semblance of normal, just in time for Sunday to arrive.  Despite how overwhelmed Neville still felt about the concept of being famous, he was still very excited to enter the Wizarding World. To finally be where he belonged. </p><p>A quick explanation later, Neville stepped behind Augusta and into a small, shabby, and dimly-lit pub within a sizable gathering of people inside that Neville recognized immediately to be witches and wizards, drinking, smoking, and laughing. True to her warning, there were some people who came up to them, though Augusta shooed them away quickly.</p><p>After making a withdrawal at Gringotts, where Neville was amazed by the goblins and terrified with the railways, their first stop in Diagon Alley was Ollivanders.  Admittedly, Augusta had some...reservations about the wand Neville would be using, and it took a great deal of convincing from Algie to swallow her pride.</p><p>When the Longbottoms strolled into the tiny shop, Neville first saw the walls lined to the ceiling with long thin boxes. The very air in the shop unnerved him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Standing at the counter was an old man with wide, pale eyes, shining like moons through the gloom of the shop, who was assisting a girl to choose her first wand. </p><p>As they waited, Neville felt overwhelmed when she kept asking questions about wands and how they worked. He looked at his gran who seemed to find the girl irritating, as did the girl when Ollivander only responded with vague statements that didn't seem to make sense. Finally, the girl walked out of the shop with her family before the wandmaker turned on Neville.</p><p>"Ah yes, I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Neville Longbottom." Neville gulped nervously as he tried not to look terrified. "You look very much like your parents. It seems only yesterday your mother was in here herself, buying her first wand. Twelve and a half inches long, supple, made of ebony and with phoenix feather. Very good for dueling." Neville took a step back as the man drew even closer. </p><p>"Your father, on the other hand, favored an pear wand. Eleven and one quarter inches, swishy, made with dragon heartstring. A little rigid - and it seems you have brought it back into my shop." He turned on his heel to face Augusta.</p><p>"Yes." She declared, walking up to him with a long wooden box in her hands, which she opened to reveal a long and very shiny wand. "I want him to have it."</p><p>Ollivander raised an eyebrow. "And why may that be?" </p><p>"This belonged to his father!" Augusta protested against the wandmaker's subtle disagreement. "This was my son's wand, and he used it magnificently. Why, the sort of magic he could produce with it was indescribable! As you must know, Neville is already a great wizard, and is only destined to become even more so, he should have this wand so he could do what his father could, not to mention the sentimental value!" </p><p>"Your wand was ash, nine inches, unyielding. A wood that is best suited to those who are not lightly swayed from their beliefs or purposes, it seems that it's still quite suited to you, even after all these years." Ollivander chuckled, plucking the wand from its box. "But as we wandmakers say, 'The wand chooses the wizard.' However great a wand this is, it has not chosen Neville. You will never get such good results with another's wand, just as no two wands are the same. It does appear to have a fondness for your grandson - likely due to its loyalty to your son - but it most certainly would not work for Neville as he is now. Perhaps one day - but today is not that day."</p><p>Augusta faltered for a moment, before she declared that Neville's new wand would make him greater than his father. Ollivander pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. He measured Neville from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and around his head. While measuring around his head, Ollivander touched the lightning-shaped scar on Neville's forehead with a long, white finger.</p><p>"I'm terribly sorry to say I sold the wand that did it." He said softly, sending a shiver down Neville's spine. "Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Very powerful wand, and in the wrong hands... Well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..." He shook his head, before he headed back inside the store and picked out a wand. "Right then, try this one. Laurel and Dragon Heartstring, eight inches, reasonably springy."</p><p>It took quite a few tries and even more messes, while the wands that had not chosen him had begun to form a small pile; Augusta was beginning to wonder out loud if it was because her grandson was too great, while the more wands Ollivander pulled out, the happier he become. </p><p>"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect wand for you - I wonder - it's here somewhere - holly and phoenix Feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."</p><p>Neville gave this one a hesitant wave, before golden flames burst out and ignited the boxes behind, though his Gran quickly raised her own and extinguished the fire before it could spread.</p><p>"And I was so sure..." This setback actually seemed to disappoint the wandmaker, before he had a spark of inspiration, as he headed back to the back of the shop, reemerging with a new box. </p><p>"Perhaps, this is the one. Cherry and unicorn hair, thirteen inches, fairly flexible." He said, and Neville looked at his Gran before she urged him to pick it up. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers, before raising it above his head and brought it down, sending out a stream of pink light and falling pink petals which disappeared as they fell through the dusty air.</p><p>"Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh very good! This is a very unique wand Mr Longbottom, and I am certain that we can expect great things from you...just as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible, yes, but nonetheless great."</p><hr/><p>Harry had never felt more bored in his life. He could have been looking at the brooms, maybe even have spent his time in Zonkos. Instead, it is mother had been pestering him all day from the moment he’d woken up. He didn't know why he had to come along. He smirked to himself at the thought while watching his mother peering into each shop nervously.</p><p>“Mmm - I think it's best if we split up for a bit." Lily Potter's voice interrupted his daydream.  "We already have most of what we need. Harry, why don't you go to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions and get your robes fitted. I'll head to the Apothecary and pick up your potion supplies, alright?”</p><p>"Can't I get them from Uncle Severus?"</p><p>"You know that he's<br/><br/>Without a goodbye he marched off towards Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. He entered the shop and was greeted by a worker dressed in lilac. “Right this way, are you Hogwarts?” Harry nodded and was led him to the side of the shop, where he stood on a footstool in front of a large mirror as they began to pin his robes. He took the time to look at his reflection; slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.. Staring back at him was the ,  Messy black hair rested , dark tan skin, and vivid green eyes behind a pair of glasses with a taped bridge.</p><p>As he continued to look at himself he heard the shop door open and some excited muttering. And soon there was a boy next to him - chubby, brown hair trimmed in a bowl cut, and somewhat clumsy, if him almost tripping as he stood on. Something about him intrigued him, though he didn't know why.</p><p>"Hi there.” He said. “Hogwarts, too?”</p><p>“Yes,” said the boy.</p><p>"My mum's out to buy my books, my Dad's working at the ministry - hopefully I could drag him later to look at the racing brooms." The boy looked confused for a moment. “You play Quidditch at all?”</p><p>"No, Gran's never let me own a broomstick." The boy shook his head. "Says it's too dangerous."</p><p>“Rubbish - Dad says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my House." Harry looked appalled. "Speaking of houses, which house do you think you'll be in?"</p><p>"Maybe Hufflepuff - and you?"</p><p>"'Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!' Just like my dad." Harry emulated the action of a knight holding up a sword. "Though I guess Hufflepuff's nice." </p><p>Hanging from the handle of her cane was a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. "You got me an owl?"</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Hogwarts Express</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The month of August flew by in a flash. Neville was so anxious about going back into the Wizarding World, where everyone knew his name, that he wished he could’ve had a little more time to mentally prepare himself, but before he knew it, September 1st had arrived. Neville stood on Platform 9 3/4 and prepared goodbye to his grandmother, all the while trying to collect his thoughts. He wasn't excited, maybe it was because he was worried about how other people would be treating him; yet he wasn't scared either, perhaps it was the fact that what his Gran had told him about You-Know-Who that had kept lingering in his mind.</p><p>Regardless of how he felt about it, the day was here. He could hardly believe it. He supposed that was the root of the feeling that he wasn't feeling anything. Simple disbelief.</p><p>As they made their way over towards the ninth and tenth platforms, Augusta pointed out a large group of red-haired people who to her right. They all looked incredibly similar, except for two boys who were<em>, </em>in fact, identical. A short and plump woman with a particularly kind face, whom Hermione assumed to be their mother, was quizzing the only daughter about the platform. “That's the Weasley family, another of the pureblood households. They may not be the most accomplished family, but they are more loyal than anyone you could ever meet, and certainly more welcoming.”</p><p>Neville watched with awe as they whole group waved between the ordinary London commuters, and then as they reached the wall between the signs for platforms nine and ten, they simply just kept going, Neville watched surprised and silent, as the whole group barreled towards the wall, vanishing one by one.</p><p>"That's where the platform is." She had a bemused expression on her face. "Now, go on, Neville."</p><p>Neville scrunched his face, he hadn't really thought about it like that before, “i guess not.” he said, “do we have to go though it too?”</p><p>But he didn't need an answer, his grandmother strode towards the magically hidden portal, her heeled boots cracking against the floor, muggles in suits and ties, jumped out of her way, tourists parting like the sea for this intimidating older woman. Neville trailing behind her, trying to push the concerningly heavy trolley on his own. For a moment, he was worried that the barrier might be faulty and he'll have crashed.</p><p>But it never did. He opened his eyes to see a beautiful scarlet steam engine that sat next to the platform with its doors wide open, waiting for more people to pile inside. Smoke from the engine drifted above the lively crowd and a rather large sign hung overhead that read <em>Hogwarts Express, 11 o’clock </em>. The train carriages already looked full, children of all ages were waving through windows, hooting and yelling, some still hanging out of open doors and windows, some still waiting to board.</p><p>“Now, Neville” Augusta said, piloting him though the crowds by the shoulders, moving past a boy with dreadlocks who was surrounded by a small crowd. But Grandmother had pulled him away, before he could see what was in the box he was carrying. she said growing as she tilted her head towards a grumpy looking blonde boy and his parents. "I want you to make friends, pass your classes and be busy, so I will not ask you to owl me weekly, but I'll be owling you at least once a month and expecting replies. I trust you that I do not need to remind you to not let your peers them treat you differently because of your name?"</p><p>"You just did, Gran." </p><p>His grandmother paused for a moment, before lifting his trunk onto the train with a flick of her long elegant wand, before a smile curved the shape of Augusta's lips.</p><p>"Tell Professor McGonagall that Augusta says hello." She took his face in her hands and gave him a once-over before nodding approvingly. and he wrapped his arms around her in a hug. For all the people knew, they had just said their affectionate goodbyes to each other before parting.</p><p>A sudden shrill sounded all across the platform, ushering kids onto the train and parents and relatives saying their last goodbyes. Augusta stepped back from the train and gave a last wave to Neville as he climbed into the carriage, moments before the train started moving, slowly then picking up speed. A pang of anxiety rippled through her before she squashed it down. As the train disappeared, Augusta took one final look before she apparated away.</p><hr/><p>It had taken him six minutes to get discovered.</p><p>“Come on, we need to find a compartment before they're - sorry!” exclaimed the student who had bumped him, an older girl with dark platinum blonde hair covered her eye.</p><p>“'S alright,” Neville mumbled, abandoning his trunk and squeezing into the waiting corridor, pushing in between the other students. “Sorry—excuse me, I dropped my—”</p><p>“Blimey, George, is that who I think it is?” said one voice, causing Neville to freeze in the middle of bending down to pick up Trevor. The aforementioned toad took advantage of the distraction to disappear again. </p><p>“It is, Fred, it’s Neville Longbottom!”</p><p>Neville was suddenly being pulled through a door to his right, from which the voice had originated. Suddenly free of the throng of students, Neville found himself standing in the middle of a compartment while his rescuer slammed the door shut again, quickly throwing some sort of cloak onto him. He could make out the figure of a young boy, probably in his year as well, speaking with at least two older students. </p><p>"Well, that was exciting." The cloak was lifted up, revealing his rescuer to be a skinny-looking boy with messy black hair and thin glasses. "I have to admit, rescuing the Boy-Who-Lived wasn't on my pocket list, but here we are! Welcome to my compartment, Mr. Longbottom." </p><p>"Uh...sure." Neville was still processing what happened. Neville replied. "Say, have we met before? You look familiar..."</p><p>"Oh right, how rude of me." The boy slapped his forehead before extending his hand. "Harry Potter, at your service! You were getting your robes next to me at Madam Malkin's, remember?"</p><p>"I'm Neville. Neville Longbottom." Harry's eyes lit up in awe. "And uh..."</p><p>"You're the Boy-Who-Lived." Harry stated. "But my mum told me that it'd be quite rude to ask you about that, so no, I'm not going to." He paused as the witch trolley </p><p>A large purchase of candy later, Neville found himself swapping stories with Harry, with Harry speaking of a time when his dad and his 'Uncle Padfoot' were escaping from a pair of muggle policemen and three Death Eaters when the compartment door slid open again. Neville looked up to see the inquisitive girl from Ollivanders; she had bushy brown hair, white skin that looked to have never been in the sun, brown eyes, large front teeth, was already wearing her Hogwarts robes and spoke in a bossy tone. "Has anyone seen a rat? A boy called Ron's lost his when his brothers set off a firework in my compartment."  </p><p>"Sorry, we haven't seen one." The girl looked more annoyed than relieved at the fact and prepared to leave when her eyes landed on Neville's forehead.</p><p>"Wait, holy cricket - you're Neville Longbottom!" She barged into their compartment against their protests before examining him like a prize animal, staring at his scar.. "I know all about you, of course - I got a few extra books for background reading, and you’re in <em>Modern Magical History </em>and <em>The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts </em>and <em>Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century</em>."</p><p>"Er..." Overwhelmed, Neville exchanged a glance with a bewildered Harry, it seemed neither were expecting the motor mouth from her. "Not really...am I really in those books?"</p><p>"Goodness, didn’t you know, I’d have wanted to find out everything I could if it was me!” Before Neville could explain that his Gran had , the girl had continued talking. "Isn’t it <em>so </em>interesting that a baby defeated Voldemort when no one else could? I wonder what happened, not that I expect you to remember! I’ve read all kinds of theories but none of them really satisfy me."</p><p>"Look." Harry finally managed to recover. "Could you just stop using the name? You're not supposed to say it out."</p><p>“But why? It’s just a bad French pun.”</p><p>“It’s...huh...really?” Harry paused for a moment, taking that in. “But still, you just don’t say it. I'm going to guess that you’re muggle-born-"</p><p>He should have expected the response when he said that. "Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard - I’ve learnt all our set books off by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough-”</p><p>"RIGHT!" Harry had to shout and put his hand over her mouth to get in a word. "So the deal is...You-Know-Who's name is like a slur, a taboo. Think...er...like Hitler.”</p><p>"I...see." Neville swore he could see and hear the gears spinning in her head. "And who are you supposed to be?"</p><p>"Harry. Harry Potter." Harry retorted, getting on his feet. "Now can-"</p><p>"Harry Potter? As in the son of James and Lily Potter who were tortured by Death Eaters?” </p><p>Neville's jaw dropped - this girl either had a mental disorder or didn't know anything about social etiquette. Harry was getting angrier by the second. "Look, we don't have a rat, and we would very much prefer to be left alone. So could you get out?"</p><p>"You're being terribly rude." The girl looked as if she wanted to throw <em>him</em> out instead. "You too better change into your robes. I expect we'll be arriving soon." </p><p>"Mind your own business, will you?" Harry retorted, unimpressed with her bossiness. "I'll change when I want to get changed, you're not my mum."</p><p>"I only said anything to keep you from getting in trouble," She defended in a sniffy voice, before getting up. "By the way, your glasses are filthy."</p><p>"Hope she's not going to be in my house, I can't stand her." Neville shook his head as she finally left, unable to believe how rude some people are. Then the compartment doors opened again, and Harry looked as if he was ready to jinx someone.</p><p>"Is it true?" said a voice from the doorway. Neville looked up at the kid who had just entered their compartment, a small boy with white-blonde hair and pale, angular features flanked by a pair of large, menacing boys. "We heard Neville Longbottom's in this compartment. So it's you?"</p><p>"Are you a Malfoy?" asked Harry. Neville immediately recognized the name to be from one of the more prominent pureblood wizarding families, in particular one of the more shady ones.</p><p>"It's good to be recognized. I am in fact, Draco Malfoy, sole heir to the Malfoy family. These are Crabbe and Goyle." The other two boy let out an grunt in response. "You've been out of the Wizarding World for a while," Draco began in a very business-like manner, "So you wouldn't know, but my family has a lot of influence around here, and we have a way of getting things done, if you know what I mean. We could be of use to you." </p><p>"And by that, you mean...?"</p><p>"You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than others, Longbottom. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort." Draco gave him a knowing look, while Neville was starting to think they had different ideas of what 'the wrong sort' meant. "I can help you with that."</p><p>“Oh, piss off, Malfoy.” Harry glared at Draco with distain. "I think Neville knows enough to decide what is 'the wrong sort'."</p><p>Malfoy’s nose wrinkled with intense dislike. “Butt out, <em>Potter</em>, this doesn’t concern you.”</p><p>Harry's face flushed red, and for the faintest moment Neville saw his eyes turn white completely, but he stood his ground. “No, this doesn’t concern <em>you</em>. I really doubt the Boy Who Lived wants a future Death Eater for a friend.”</p><p>Neville couldn't help but gasp. Malfoy, however, simply scoffed. “I suppose you’d know all about Death Eaters, wouldn’t you, Potter? Did your blood traitor dad tell you that?”</p><p>Harry’s hands clenched into shaky fists. “Take that <em>back</em>, Malfoy.”</p><p>At this, Malfoy snickered, tapping Crabbe on the shoulder as if to get his attention. “Oh, did that upset you?” he crowed at Harry. “Still, at least she’s doing better than your pathetic mudblood of a mother.” </p><p>Neville was expecting Harry to be attacking Draco for his comment. What he wasn't expecting, however, was for the blonde knocked out of the compartment alongside his bodyguards by a dark, ash-like cloud that erupted from Harry's arms, ripping off shreds of the door as the three were carried off like a wave of water. </p><p>"I'm - I'm sorry." Harry stammered. "Ple - please don't tell anyone-!"</p><p>Fortunately, </p><hr/><p>"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" A rough voice boomed out as students stepped off the train and onto the platform. Neville turned and caught sight of an overly large, hairy man who wore a huge, black, bushy beard and seemingly-uncombed hair. </p><p>"Hi there, Hagrid! How are you?" Harry asked as he approached Hagrid, whose face lit up as he saw him.</p><p>"Ah, ye must be wee Harry! I was worried yer parents wouldn’t tell ye who I am!"</p><p>Harry grimaced but managed to still look happy. “They gave me a list of people at Hogwarts I could trust if I ever need something. Your name was near the top."</p><p>"Nice ter know. I'll be there in a minute." Hagrid smiled before looking back at the sea of heads. "C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"</p><p>The two made their way, slipping and stumbling, down a steep narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Neville thought there must be thick trees there. "That must be the forbidden forest." Harry whispered. "We're not supposed to go near there...though my dad said someone always does anyway."</p><p>"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "Jus' round this bend here."</p><p>As Harry and his friends rounded the narrow path, it opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side of the loch, with its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.</p><p>"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Neville and Harry all scrambled into a boat, followed by two others who introduced themselves as Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas.</p><p>"Everyone in?" Hagrid, who had a boat to himself, shouted. "Right then - forward!"</p><p>Neville and company sat in their boat admiring the view as they floated closer and closer to Hogwarts. They all ducked as the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy which hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached some kind of harbor which had a crystal roof, where they clambered out onto the rocks and pebbles and little bits of quartz. </p><p>They walked through a passageway and up a set of stone steps that came out in a small, grassy courtyard just at the edge of the cliff. The students staggered out into the open and up to the great oaken front doors. Even Hagrid looked small against those doors, but he still made plenty of noise when he raised a fist the size of a bowling ball and pounded on them three times.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The House Sorting</h2></a>
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    <p>The doors swung open, revealing Professor McGonagall whose stern glance swept over the crowd. Neville almost opened his mouth to tell McGonagall Gran's greetings, but decided against it. "Are these all the first years, Hagrid?"</p><p>"Yup, Professor McGonagall. Made sure o' it." Hagrid nodded, before turning to the small crowd and ushered them in.</p><p>"Welcome to Hogwarts." McGonagall said after they arrived in front of a large pair of doors. "In a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seat, you will be sorted into your houses; they are Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff - each with its own noble history and producing outstanding alumni. Now, for as long as you stay here in Hogwarts, your house will be like your family; your triumphs will earn you house points, while any rule breaking will lose them. At the end of the school year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup. I hope each of you will be a credit to your house."</p><p>"The sorting ceremony shall begin momentarily in front of your peers and teachers. I suggest you all smartened up yourselves..." Her eyes lingered for a moment on a redhead boy's nose, who Neville assumed was one of the Weasleys, according to his Gran's descriptions, while Harry ruffled his hair to even more of a mess. "...while I make sure the rest of the school are ready. Form a line as you wait for my return."</p><p>"Do you know how they sort us?" Neville whispered to Harry as McGonagall vanished behind the doors.</p><p>"Heard from my dad that they read your mind to find out." Harry shrugged. "I dunno how, but it doesn't sound pleasant."</p><p>That did not raise Neville's confidence at all, while he could still hear Hermione muttering about all the spells she presumably learnt - even though she was quite far back in the line. </p><p>Then she screamed, while a startled Neville caught sight of a transparent figure as white as pearls floating up from the floor in front of him. He turned around to see maybe a dozen more figures emerging from the walls, and amongst them was a little man with wickedly slanted, orange eyes, dressed in loud, outlandish clothes including a bell-covered hat and an orange bow tie arguing with the ghost of what appeared to be a Hogwarts student. "'Forgive and forget,  we ought to give him another chance-"</p><p>"Peeves, you know for a fact that I don't give a rat's tail about the Fat Friar's philosophy. The only reason why I'm even talking to you is 'cause the Baron's got me on a - what are you all doing here?" He suddenly turned to look at the first years. "New students! About to be Sorted, I suppose? Better hope you're in Slytherin, or else you're gonna expect a dungbomb or two."</p><p>"That's enough, Mr. Ashe." McGonagall scolded the ghost who blew a raspberry and floated through the walls to join the other. "Come along, you all." </p><p>Burying his nerves, Neville took several deep breaths not to faint as he followed the others through the double doors into the Great Hall. They followed Professor McGonagall to the front. They came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. Hundreds of faces stared back at them like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students were the ghosts, shining like misty silver.</p><p>He heard Hermione whisper to , “"Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."</p><p>Neville glanced upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. Even though he grew up with magic; it was a sight to behold.</p><p>The high table where all the teachers were seated also came into view. Sitting in the middle was Dumbledore, whose eyes were still twinkling. Sitting next to him was a grim looking man with greasy black hair on the left and a very short man who faintly resembled a goblin on the right. There were others, such as a woman who he guessed was the Herbology teacher judging from her attire, a man in a purple turban, Hagrid, a dark skinned woman, a woman in red robes, a rather stern looking teacher with hawk like eyes, and a man who had an arm and a leg replaced with prosthetics.</p><p>"When I call your name, you will step forward and sit on the stool." McGonagall's voice interrupted their conversation, and he looked back to see the deputy headmistress standing behind an old stool, with a long roll of parchment in one hand and a very old, pointed wizard's hat in the other. "I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head and you will be sorted into your new houses." She took one look at her parchment in her hand. "Abbot, Hannah!"</p><p>A pink faced girl with pigtails stepped forward nervously, sitting on the stool as the hat was placed on her. Neville thought he was seeing things when he saw parts of the hat collapsing into some sort of face and its mouth was moving - before it startled him shouting 'HUFFLEPUFF!"</p><p>The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Hermione caught a glimpse of the Fat Friar’s ghost waving merrily at her.</p><p>“Bones, Susan!”</p><p>“HUFFLEPUFF!” Shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.</p><p>“Boot, Terry!”</p><p>“RAVENCLAW!”</p><p>The table second from the left clapped this time, several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.</p><p>The progress continued as the crowd of first years thinned. Draco Malfoy barely touched the hat before it shouted 'SLYTHERIN!', while a Lily Moo</p><p>“Granger, Hermione,” </p><p>The girl with the bushy hair <em>ran </em>to the stool. Some of the older kids, mostly from Slytherin, laughed at her enthusiasm. She grabbed the hat before Professor McGonagall could place it onto her head and jammed it on her head, and it immediately shouted out “RAV-” before, to everyone's shock, stopping. The rest of the school waited too, watching. She was clearly having a deep discussion with the hat, albeit silently, if her look of constipation was anything to go by. The soft murmur of the upper year students got a bit louder. She had taken the longest so far, although Neville felt sure it hadn’t even been a full minute. </p><p>Finally, with extreme reluctance, the hat muttered 'Gryffindor' and a smug Hermione made her way over and immediately struck a conversation with a tall red-headed boy wearing a Prefect badge</p><p>"Longbottom, Neville!"</p><p>This was it. The moment of truth. He could already hear everyone whispering his name, and saw a lot craning their necks to get a good look at him as the hat was put on his head. <em>Go ahead and put me in Hufflepuff, </em>Neville thought as loud as he could. </p><p>“Hufflepuff? But why? I see a lot of potential for Gryffindor,” said a voice that sounded like it was right in Neville’s ear. </p><p>
  <em>Gryffindor? Me? No, you must be wrong. I think I belong in Hufflepuff. </em>
</p><p>The hat’s voice <em>laughed </em>. “You’re brave enough to tell an ancient artifact made by the very Founders of this school, whose entire purpose is reading brains and Sorting students, that it ‘<em>must be wrong’. </em>You really think you’re Hufflepuff? My boy, though you have tremendous loyalty, you have the heart of a Gryffindor, you just need to trust yourself. So go join your new friends in GRYFFINDOR!'    </p><p>This last was shouted to the rest of the Hall and immediately followed by a positively deafening cheer from the Gryffindors. Many people jumped out of their seats, whooping and hollering until their throats were raw. The red-headed twins began to chant, “We got Longbottom! We got Longbottom!” Neville's stomach lurched, but he got up from the stool and started toward the table, only to realize he was still wearing the Sorting Hat and ran back to hand it to the next student amid laughter. </p><p>"Welcome, Mr. Longbottom." The red-headed prefect said quietly, offering his hand to shake. “I’m Percy Weasley, fifth year prefect.”</p><p>“Potter, Harry!” took a long moment to Sort, about as long or even a bit longer than Hermione. Before too long, however, the hat shouted “Gryffindor!” and Harry was walking over to sit with Neville, a proud smile on his face. </p><p>The last few students were sorted, and Neville clapped loudly when Ron was sorted into Gryffindor and sat on Harry’s other side after being congratulated by his brothers. Eventually, 'Zabini, Blaise' was quickly sorted to Slytherin before McGonagall took the Hat away.</p><p>"Now that we are all sorted." Dumbledore had gotten out of the High Table and stood in front of an owl-shaped podium. "I would like to make a few start-of-term notices to you all. Firstly, I would like to extend my gratitude towards Quirinus Quirrell for heroically agreeing to undertake the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts while we are delighted to have Professor Charity Burbage to fulfil his previous post of Muggle Studies." Dumbledore's gaze moved searchingly across the students. "I hope all students will extend Professor Quirrell that utmost courtesy and tolerance which is due his extraordinary service to you and this school, and that you will not pester us with any niggling complaints about him, unless you want to try doing his job."</p><p>Neville looked at the High Table. The man with the purple turban stood up nervously, followed by the stern looking woman. "Our caretaker, Mr. Filch has informed me to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Alas, we all know that what should be, and what is, are two different things. Thank you for keeping this in mind." Neville looked back to see a very grumpy man with a even grumpier cat, neither looking pleased with the headmaster's sarcastic remark.</p><p>"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Any student that is in their second year or above interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch." Neville noticed more than a few glances towards the hawk eye woman.</p><p>"Finally, I feel the need to tell you all that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death. It is guarded by an elaborate series of dangerous and potentially lethal traps, and you cannot possibly get past all of them, even if you are in seventh year." That got a lot of chatter around the tables, and Neville was wondering what was in there. "Now, dig in!" </p><p>And just like that, the Feast began. The dishes in front of them were now piled with food, much to Neville's surprise and pleasure. His Gran had put him on a strict diet, so he never had the liberty of choosing his own meals. However, it didn't seem like everyone was enjoying it.</p><p>“Ugh,” Granger's face screwed up when she took a sip from her goblet. “What is this stuff? It tastes horrible!”</p><p>“Pumpkin juice,” Percy Weasley, the prefect said lightly.</p><p>“...I'm sorry, <em>what</em>?!”</p><p>“You’ll get used to it.”</p><p>"Hello!" A ghostly head came up from their own table. "Welcome to Gryffindor."</p><p>"Hello Sir Nicholas. How was your summer?" The Weasley prefect asked.</p><p>"Dismal, once again. My request to join the headless hunt is once denied. As if a inch of skin left is insufficient to be deemed -"</p><p>"Headless? Then you must be Nearly Headless Nick! I read about you in Hogwarts: A History." Granger butted in, to the ghost's displeasure. "I have to ask, how can you be nearly headless?"</p><p>"First of all, young lady, I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower." He looked extremely miffed, as if the chat wasn't going the way he wanted. "Second, like this!" And with that, he seized his left ear and pulled, swinging his head off his neck and onto his shoulder, revealing the bloody stump underneath. Most of the students looked at it in Hermione raised her napkin to her nose and mouth and took a deep breath to prevent herself from losing her dinner when she’d barely started it.</p><p>When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding, and a variety of other sweets.</p><p>"I'm half-and-half," Seamus was saying, they had begun talking about their families. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him.” Neville laughed alongside them. "What 'bout you, Ron?"</p><p>"Oh...our family are purebloods. Well, I think we've got a bit of muggle mixed in somewhere about seven generations ago..."</p><p>“What’s a ‘Pure-blood’?” Hermione wondered out loud. </p><p>“It’s a family who <em>say</em> they have no Muggles or Muggle-borns in their family.” Harry was the one replied. "My godfather's family are fanatics, even their motto was 'Toujours Pur'..." </p><p>"The Blacks?" Ron looked intrigued. "Aren't they the ones who Your blood status doesn't mean-"</p><p>Neville glanced up at the High Table again as Harry and Ron discussed about the Black family. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was in a deep discussion with Professor Dumbledore. Quirrell was talking with the greasy haired wizard when the latter looked past the other man, straight into Neville’s eyes and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Neville’s forehead. </p><p>"What's wrong?" Percy broke off from his conversation with Granger. "You look like sometime pinned a nail to your head."</p><p>"It's - it's nothing." Neville shook his head; the pain ceased as quickly as it had come. He rubbed the part of his forehead where the scar was, bewildered. “Who that talking with Professor Quirrell?" </p><p>"That’s Professor Snape.” Harry gestured to the dark-haired professor discreetly. "He's the head of Slytherin."</p><p>"What does he teach?"</p><p>"Potions; though his real passion is Defense Against the Dark Arts; he knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, and he's been after the positions for years." He then lowered his voice to a whisper. "Plus, he used to be one of...You-Know-Who's followers."</p><p>Neville looked back to Snape, who had his eyes looking over at the Gryffindors. Neville could certainly picture Snape as one of those Dark Wizards, and wonder how did he manage to get a job as a teacher. </p><hr/><p>After the feast, the Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase.  along the “quickest route.” Unfortunately, the quickest route involved going up staircases that “liked to change” or had a vanishing step, walking through sliding panels and behind tapestries, and evading the castle poltergeist. Neville was among the few who tripped up the stairs once or twice but luckily none of the other students noticed. He did hear snickering from the portraits, which made his ears burn bright red.</p><p>Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of traversing through an endless labyrinth, they reached a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress. "Password?" She asked.</p><p>"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs. "Alright, girls to the left, boys to the right. Don't even try to - Potter!"</p><p>Harry had sneaked over to the girl's stairs and was ready to climb them up when they suddenly flattened, forming a slide and causing the student in front of him, a girl with light blond hair in multiple, asymmetric braids to fall onto his lap.</p><p>"Sorry, couldn't resist." He struck his tongue out cheekily. </p><p>"Well, I suppose the rest of you will now know what will happen." Percy concluded. "Now, off to bed!"</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Class Impressions</h2></a>
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    <p>The classes themselves weren’t so bad as Neville discovered...on the condition he could find them, no thanks to the everchanging stairways, Filch and his cat, Duncan Ashe, one of the first ghosts he met who had apparently been killed by 'R', whatever that meant. Anyways, he had become one of the most dangerous 'pests' inside the castle, second only to Peeves, who was worth two locked doors and a tricky staircase if one ran into him when late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on student’s heads, pull rugs from under their feet, sneak behind unsuspecting victims while invisible, grab their nose and screech, “GOT YOUR CONK!” This made Neville’s reputation for being clumsy all the more notorious.</p><p>Herbology with Professor Sprout easily became his favorite subject. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses and learned how to take care of all the plants and fungi and learned what they were used for; having practically grown up in a garden, it never failed to fascinate him. </p><p>History of Magic, on the other hand, turned out to be the most boring. Although Neville found the subject itself fascinating, Professor Binns, an old ghost who droned on in a monotone voice, made it unbearably dull. Rumor had it that he died while sitting in the staff room, leaving his body behind the next day to continue teaching. Despite how boring his class was; Neville had to admire a teacher who was so dedicated, not even death stopped him.</p><p>Neville was among the first few who arrived for Transfiguration early, having made a point not only to not embarrass himself but also per his Gran's recommendation, although it appeared as if McGonagall herself was late; the only occupant in the room was a silver tabby cat on her desk. </p><p>At least, that's what he thought; until Dean and Seamus both burst into the room, panting heavily, their robes in a state of disarray. "I told you we aren’t late. She isn’t even here." The latter was saying, and it was that moment when the cat to leap off the table and transformed back to her human form mid-leap. Harry chuckled quietly as the whole class gasped in surprise, with Dean exclaiming, "That, was bloody brilliant!"</p><p>"Why thank you for that assessment, Mr. Thomas." McGonagall replied coolly. "Perhaps I should transfigure Mr. Finnegan or yourself into a pocket watch? That way one of you might be on time."</p><p>"...We got lost."</p><p>"Then perhaps a map? I trust that you don't need one to find your seats." She promptly turned to her desk and addressed her students with a stern look. "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and never come back. You have been warned."</p><p>"Now," She wrote in large letters on the blackboard: <em>Some transfiguration is permanent, and some is not.</em> "There are a few essential rules in Transfiguration, one that I will go over every class and I expect you to remember."</p><p>"For example." With a flick of her wand, she changed her desk into a pig. Harry was among those who giggled, only to fall silent when McGonagall raised a hand before reverting the change. "This is not a pig, it is merely a magical construct that looks and behaves like one, based on my own knowledge of what a pig looks and behaves like. For any kind of transfiguration, the result depends highly on two variables - the mental image of what you want your target to change into, and the concentration of detail you place into changing the object into that mental image."</p><p>"I will make it clear, that you are to <em>not</em> attempt transfiguration of any food or clothing from anything that isn't food nor clothing respectively, you are not to attempt to transfigure any money unless you wish to find yourselves paying a hefty fine from the goblins, who do not take kindly to it, and until you are at N.E.W.T. level, not to attempt <em>any</em> form of human transfiguration unsupervised and without assistance from an competent adult. Do you understand?"</p><p>“Today, then, we will begin with the transfiguration of a matchstick into a needle. This is not the easiest transfiguration, even with its small scale, because any kind of metal is difficult, but I believe in laying the groundwork early for the more conceptually challenging forms of transfiguration later on…”</p><p>By the end of class, Hermione was the first to have changed her match perfectly, while Harry only managed to turn his match from wood to metal and Seamus had somehow exploded his. Professor McGonagall showed the class their results, giving Hermione a rare smile and Harry an impressed nod.</p><p>"Oh, and Professor McGonagall?" Neville said as the class was dismissed. "My gran says hi."</p><hr/><p>"Welcome to Charms everyone, my name is Professor Flitwick." The small man, whom some suspected to be rather goblin like, spoke in a squeaky voice. "I hope that most of you have had taken the time to at least glance over your books. Now then, can anyone tell me what will be the most important item for my class?"</p><p>As usual Hermione's hand shot up almost instantly, earning scowls from many of the other students.</p><p>"Ah yes, miss..."</p><p>"Granger, sir. The answer is our textbooks." She replied confidently.</p><p>"A good guess, but I am afraid incorrect, anyone else?" </p><p>"Girl looks like someone just kicked her puppy." She gritted her teeth at the messy boy's amused whisper while several other hands now raised.</p><p>"Another good guess, but no." The diminutive man sighed. "The answer is our minds. Everything else can be compensated for with time... but the mind cannot. It is the most important tool that any of us will ever wield and the primary subject that all of your classes will focus on for your time at Hogwarts."</p><p>He followed that with a long theory on the theory of Charms, before they were trying to practice the Lumos charm. As with Transfiguration, Hermione was the first to produce a light, while Seamus had once again detonated something.</p><hr/><p>“W-w-w-welcome t-to D-Defense A-Against the D-Dark Arts c-class.”</p><p>The class everyone looked forward to was Defense against the Dark Arts. As it turned out, Professor Quirrell’s lesson turned out to be a bit of a joke, assuming you could understand his stutter as he went through the basics of jinxs. His turban, he told them through stuttering teeth, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie. When Hermione asked eagerly about how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and stammered that he would tell them when they started learning about zombies.</p><p>"Say, did you notice the smell from Quirrel's turban?" Neville asked as they left the classroom. </p><p>"Fred and George said it's stuffed with garlic." Ron shrugged. "Quirrel's probably lined up his entire closet in case that Romanian vampire came to get him."</p><p>Neville silently shook his head; he knew enough from helping out in a garden to distinguish the scent of plants. And while garlic was indeed overpowering, the odor from the turban was just plain odd.</p><p>Like something dead.</p><hr/><p>Potions was one of the two Neville was worrying the most. He had heard from Ron who had heard it from all his brothers that Snape was a rather harsh teacher, if not as harsh compared to McGonagall, but Harry quickly assured him otherwise.</p><p>"He's a big softie under that cold mask." Harry had told him. "Just make sure you don't look like you're not paying attention or you know it all or lie, he especially hate liars."</p><p>Even with this in mind, Neville wasn't thrilled. On the day Potions class begun, he eventually got up and got ready after Harry rallied their dormmates to drag him out of bed. Once they made it down to the common room, Hermione once again could be heard brushing off everyone's concerns. "The upper years have pranked us in a lot of ways, maybe they’re just pulling our legs by making Professor Snape seem terrible." She said as they walked down to the Great Hall. "He can’t be that bad, Professor Dumbledore would have fired him by now if Professor Snape was truly abusive". She said as they ate their breakfast. "Professor McGonagall is pretty strict but still a good teacher, maybe Professor Snape will be the same but he’s Slytherin." </p><p>“Hermione, please stop, you’re not really helping,” Ron muttered as his face turned green. “All this talking about it is making me want to throw up.” </p><p>Hermione turned red and Neville noticed she kept her mouth shut after that. Neville felt bad for her, he could tell it had stung even though Ron hadn’t been mean. </p><p>The Potions classroom was as eerie as they go; the dungeon in which they took their classes in was colder than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.</p><p>"There will not be any foolish wand-waving attempts nor will there be intolerable screeching of mispronounced incantations." Snape strolled into the classroom with his robes fluttering behind him. "As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. <em>However</em>," His cold glance washed over the classroom, and Neville soon realised that the rumors of Snape were indeed not off. "For those <em>select few</em> who possess the <em>predisposition</em>...I can teach you how to <em>bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses</em>. I can tell you how to <em>bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death</em> - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."</p><p>There was a moment of silence as the class took in his words. Hermione in particular was squirming in her seat, looking desperate to start proving she wasn't a dunderhead.</p><p>"Potter!" He barked, causing Harry to jump in his seat, nearly spilling his ink. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"</p><p>"Draught of Living Death, one of the strongest sleeping draughts ever made, Professor!" He replied confidently before Hermione's hand could fully extend. A faint smile curled up on Snape's lips before he switched targets.</p><p>"Longbottom!" He turned his attention to Neville next. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"</p><p>Neville racked his brains while an opportunistic Hermione stretched her hand as high as she could without leaving her seat. "...I don't think there is one, Professor."</p><p>"I see you have at least you have taken the time to have done your research." Snape noted, somewhat disappointed before he heard the sound of chatter.</p><p>"Weasley!" He turned his glance towards the red-headed boy who had been chatting with Seamus. "Tell me, what will cause a explosive Cure for boils?"</p><p>"I don't know. But I think it seems like she does, though. Why not ask her?"</p><p>There was a wave of laughter that rippled across the classroom as Hermione, who had gotten out of her seat and started jumping up and down in a vain attempt to answer, turned pink. Ignoring the desperate, practically flailing, hand of the bushy-haired Gryffindor, Snape stalked towards his target.</p><p>"This ingredient, Weasley, is Bulbadox Powder. Coating your cauldron with it before brewing this potion will result in an explosive result. Well, why aren't you all copying this down?"</p><p>There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchments. Over the noise, Snape said, "Gryffindor, ten point for Potter and Longbottom, five points will be taken for poor preparations... and another ten for another causing silliness in my classroom."</p><p>Things did not improve for the rest of the class. Snape swept around in his long black robe criticizing everyone except Harry, who in all fairness had indeed not made a notable mistake and had advanced the furthest among the class.</p><p>"Idiot!" Snape hissed at Ron. "Don't you dare add that! You will ruin your potion. Look at the way Potter masterfully stewed his horned slugs! Can't you follow even the most simplistic instructions?"</p><p>Neville must have been too busy mulling it over because the next thing he knew his cauldron melted to a twisted blob, its contents sweeping across the floor, burning holes into people's shoes. Neville instinctively maneuvered backwards away from the liquid as it melted, narrowly missing being drenched in the potion.</p><p>"You foolish boy." Snape snarled as he vanished the spilled potion away with a wave of the wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"</p><p>Neville glanced down at his book and then nodded silently, his ears burning bright red.</p><p>"An avoidable mistake, another point from Gryffindor." Professor Snape rounded on Hermione and Ron then, as they had been working next to the pair, "And you - Granger - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he’d make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? Trying to upstage the Boy Who Lived? Ten points from Gryffindor.”</p>
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